Rules of the Game
by KiaMianara
Summary: Black had come to accept one thing as a natural law: The only way to die was at each others' hands, so when one night White turns up at his door, Black is forced to break the unwritten rules of being a spy one after the other.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, so I started to write this in December 2007 and have been on and of it for the last year, but this week I had enough of it and just finished it so chapter 3 isn't exactly the best, but all together I want to believe I did a good job, although some might complain that Black and White are pretty OOC, but I'm horrible romantic and this fluffy plot-bunny has incredible sharp teeth ^^;

Just to warn you: I've got violence (what a surprise) in and the mentioning of torture in here, but somehow the story still get's fluffier with every chapter, so ... yeah, if fluffy is not your cup of tea you should consider to stop reading after the first chapter.

By the way, they later will also have a `relationship´. Nothing grafic, but it will be mentioned. You have been warned, so I don't want to hear complains.

Oh, and sorry about the Boney M. joke. It's a lame and I only did it because I needed a name and my playlist went retro on me ... and because I thought it's hilarious that time.

Anyway, I hope you like it.

.o.

_Unwritten spy rule No 1: Never be unarmed. _

.o.

Instead of wondering who would dare to bother him at this time of day, or rather night, Black just took his gun and activated it. It was either one of his fellow spies or an enemy, although it was very unlikely for them to actually knock, but he was part of this for too long already to be fooled by such mundane details. Still, he couldn't help but wonder how they had found him here. This was his private apartment for crying out loud and when he said `private´ he meant that not even his own embassy knew it even _existed_.

Anyway. It seemed after tonight he would have to find a new sanctuary, which was a pity considering that he actually liked it very much here. Friendly neighbours, beautiful location in a calm residential district, far away enough from everything that could be interesting to any spy but still near enough to get to work without much problems. Only death promised a more peaceful atmosphere.

Well, whoever dared to destroy his little piece of heaven was going to suffer indescribable before he would even consider asking why they came after him in the first place. Had they any idea what a pain in the ass the real estate market was even if you weren't paranoid?

Moving like the silent shadow he was supposed to be Black – it actually wasn't his name, not even his code-name. Their insult battles had at one point simply gotten so far that he hadn't come up with anything smarter that call him `White´ because of his mainly white clothes and now they were both stuck with it – went to his front door, kneeled down and looked through the door crack, searching for any hint of a bomb.

To his surprise he only saw a hand, probably still connected to the body it belonged to, but he hadn't become one of the top spies – if not _the_ top spy – because he let something unusual distract him in any other way than making him more alarmed. He also searched for a trigger through the keyhole, but couldn't find even the smallest hint so the only thing he actually could do, was to open the door and be prepared for an explosion and missiles of any kind as well as one of his neighbours, although the last part was very unlikely considering how late it was.

_*Well, there's only one way to find out.* _

Black pulled the door open ... and nothing happened. In fact, the corridor looked exactly the way it should, except for a lone, unmoving figure next to his door, dressed in white.

The dark spy quickly secured the corridor, before he checked on the person and only when he was sure that it was not a doll – that had already been tried on him before and he definitely wasn't going to get fooled twice by the same trick – and that this was indeed his favourite archenemy, he allowed himself to be surprised.

What in the name of all that was holy was White doing in front of his private apartment in the middle of the night? And would someone be so kind and explain to him why he was unconsciousness and in a horrible condition above all? It wasn't like he hadn't seen the other spy beaten up before, but never when he wasn't the reason for it and they hadn't run into each other for a while. It gave him a feeling of wrongness, but he ignored it in favour of considering his options carefully.

He could always follow his embassies orders and just kill the man, get rid of the corpse, maybe take a few pictures to prove it and catapult himself at the very top of the payroll as well as the white nation's most wanted list. Not that he hadn't archived both already, but in the end curiosity got the better of him anyway.

Why would White come to him of all people – and no one could tell him it was coincidence that the other had dragged himself into the fifth of eleven floors of an apartment building between two identical buildings and to a door not less than six apartments from the stairway as well as the elevator – when he should be at a hospital or at least the sick bay of his embassy?

Maybe he should just go back in and pretend he hadn't seen anything, but in a few hours his neighbours would wake up. Black somehow doubted he would be able to talk himself out of having a half dead man in front of his door, not to mention that he didn't want to traumatise the pair next door and their two kids. Of course he wouldn't admit, even under the worst torture, that he might have a soft spot for them, but the point was: the less attention everyone paid to him and his apartment, the better.

And then there was this emotion, one he hadn't felt in years, at least not since the early days of his spy-training. He didn't like it at all, especially because of the reason it came back now. In fact, he didn't even want to name it, but nonetheless did he feel compassion rise inside him. Not very much, but enough to put his gun away and pick the other man up.

"I'm _so_ going to regret this" he told himself before he made sure absolutely no one else was around and carried White into his domicile.

.o.

_Unwritten spy rule No 2: Never expect mercy. _

.o.

Two hours later Black let himself slip into his favourite armchair, brandy on ice in one hand, his gun in the other, eyes resting on his still unconsciousness counterpart, who resembled more a mummy now than a man, on his couch. He had had to correct his first assumption. White had not only been beaten up; by the look of it has it been damn near the line of being tortured, but by whom? If his own embassy would have gotten hold of White he would have known about it and Lady Grey was ... well, she was a woman. That didn't make her any less dangerous and she was not to be underestimated, but her methods were more subtle and, although just as unpleasant, nothing like this. Something about knowing to value life, she had said that one time; he had never understood it, though.

This would leave only the option of a forth party invading their business, which would also explain to a certain degree why White had come to him – the enemy of my enemy and all that –, but it was not very likely that a new organization could be good enough to trap the man even _he_ had had his fair share of problems with, without kicking up some dust beforehand.

On second thought would that actually fit into the story quite nicely, but his guts were telling him that wasn't the case here and he trusted his instincts for a good reason.

At least he had someone to satisfy his curiosity and this someone was just waking up.

Black expected the other spy to reach for his gun – which laid in Black's safe – jump up, analyse the situation and at least try to escape. He was prepared for that, already moving to take aim at the other, but again he was surprised. Acting against every single instinct the other must have developed during his own training, White only lifted his head, looked around alarmed and laid back with a relieved, if disappointed expression as soon as he spotted Black. That he was unarmed in his enemy's apartment and aimed at by said enemy didn't seem to bother him at all.

"Mind to tell me what you were doing at my door?"

No reaction. Had that crazy bastard gone back to sleep? It would be the first thing this night not surprising him at all.

"You should know best I'm not known for my patience, so answer me before I consider just shooting you."

"If you'd indented to kill me, you would have already done so. You want information, I've got them and, since I'm not in the shape to survive any further torture, I would like to go back to sleep, if _you_ don't mind."

That bastard! He seemed to be in a better shape than Black would have given him credit for, already getting cocky again, but he was in a bad enough shape to accidentally let valuable information lack through.

"So you _have _been tortured."

White actually winced.

"Just leave me alone."

"Unlikely, considering this is _my_ apartment."

The wounded didn't answer, just continued to stare Black right in the eyes until the dark dressed man sighed and rose.

"I can't believe I'm actually doing this" he stated neutral and went to the kitchen. Although White wasn't in the condition to fight, probably not even to stand, and Black had the only weapon in the room. Yet he never let the other spy out of his sight while he made them a few sandwiches. One could never be too careful after all.

He put the plate down on the white spy's stomach, took one for himself and went searching for a blanket since the other one would most probably stay for at least a few hours more and it was damn cold outside and also in here. He didn't care if White was comfortable, but he definitely hadn't gone through the work of patching him back together to let him freeze to death without any more information on this matter.

"You're either growing old or sentimental. Or both" White teased emotionless, but accepted the cover without hesitation.

"You're one to talk. I'm just trying something new and while you're here you'll never know what is going to happen next. Your food could be poisoned, I could stab you while you sleep ... You're completely at my mercy right now" Black said giving the other spy his mark trade evil-bastard-grin before heading for his bedroom.

"You wouldn't dare ...!"

"Why not? You're overestimating you're value to me. I actually don't _need_ any information from you and, as you know, I can be quite a sadist if I want to. Rest well. Oh, and the little one next door is teething, but you should be used to cries, shouldn't you?"

Black closed the door, satisfied with the outcome of their little chat. White had looked quite worried and that certainly not because of the teething baby. He was probably not going to get much sleep, while Black himself set up the trap on his door – just in case – and got as comfortable as he could with his archenemy in the next room. The next day promised to be much fun.

.o.

_Unwritten spy rule No 3: Never show mercy. _

.o.

The following day turned out to be no fun at all.

Since Black hated to waste food he had to tell White just that in order to make him eat his ration and he couldn't bring himself to torment the other anymore than just handling him in a rough manner.

In addition to that made him the question who'd done that to the other spy worry more and more, because that same person/organisation could also be a real threat to him, so after breakfast – left aside that it was actually time for lunch – he seated himself again in his armchair and repeated his question.

"Who did this to you?"

"You ask pretty much for one who has no need for my information."

Fantastic. He should have expected his own words to be turned against him. Well, he had, but that made it no less frustrating.

"Call it curiosity."

"Curiosity kills the cat."

"You should know best, laying half dead in front of my door, which reminds me to mention that I know that you knew _exactly_ whose door you knocked on."

"Now you're overestimating _your_ value. I was at my limit and it was a door to an enlightened room, which usually means someone's still awake. Now kill me, let me go or start asking some real questions before I die out of _boredom_!"

They could go on like this for hour just for the fun of mocking the other, but a knock interrupted them. A sharp glare promised White some `real´ questions if he tried anything, while Black went to open the door, wondering who it would be this time.

He half expected Lady Grey stopping by, but to his relieve it was only his neighbour with her little daughter.

"Morning, Ms M."

"Morning? It's almost noon" the young woman laughed. She always seemed to be happy and he wondered if it was only because her husband wasn't – she had told him once he absolutely hated his job, but did it anyway for his family.

"I'm sorry, if I interrupted something. I heard voices."

Black followed her look over his shoulder, mainly to make sure the other spy didn't do anything. White had turned around and vanished under the blanket just in time so that the woman would not get suspicious by seeing a wounded man in her neighbour's apartment. The police was something they both really could do without.

"Er, yes. He's just an acquaintance. Poor sod got kicked out by his wife; I let him crash here."

"I see" she replied, believing him without hesitation. To her he was just a handsome middle aged man who wasn't very often at home since his job for the government kept him busy all the time and he never gave her reason to doubt that – left aside that he was `such a lovely dear´ when he actually was at home.

Maybe he would have considered calling her a friend would he have chosen any other profession.

"So I guess you can't take Nathalie in for a while, could you? I need to go to the grocery."

"I fear not, Ms M, but I need to get a few things myself, so if you'd just hand me your list I could bring your stuff around, too."

"Oh, thank you very much, you're a real life saviour."

Damn it. On day he would start thinking before he actually said something like this, but now it was too late.

"I'm sorry we're such a nuisance. Sometimes it just seems like things are disappearing all by them self."

"You're welcome, Ms M. Has Nathalie all her teeth yet? She didn't cry last night."

"Oh, I really hope she has. Could need a few days of proper sleep myself. Sorry we keep you awake, too."

"No problem, Ms M."

"Boney, dear, I told you to call me Boney. Everyone does."

"Alright, Boney. I'll come over and pick up the list in a few minutes, okay?"

"No need to hurry. Forgot to write one anyway. I'm terribly sorry."

"It's alright. Just go and write it while I get my coat."

"Okay. Thank you so much."

Black waved her goodbye and finally closed the door, sighing with relieve. As much as he liked the livid woman, sometimes he believed the only way to make her shut up was to actually struggle her and sometimes he wasn't too far from it either.

"Just to make it clear: yes, I like them, no, it's not a weakness to enjoy the company of normal people, and no, I don't like them enough to get blackmailed" he said while walking in his bedroom and picking up some random clothes out of his closet, throwing them at White.

"I'm going to the grocery and I want you to be gone before I return. Use the second key and close the door behind you. I'll at least change lockers anyway, not to mention move away. And, for God's sake, don't make too much of a mess when you search the apartment. The only valuable thing I have here are a few weapons – including yours – which are all in my jacket anyway."

"You're kicking me out?"

"No. If you would _live_ here I would kick you out, but since this is _my_ home and you're just an unwanted guest I give you the chance to leave by yourself before I make you. You have three-quarters of an hour."

.o.

_Unwritten spy rule No 4: Never stay in the debt of anyone. _

.o.

When Black came back from the grocery with four large bags of which only the smallest was for himself – by all means, did they expect guest or had this family a black hole or two to feed? – he was greeted by a every cheerful Boney with his second key and a monolog about how _lovely_ this friend of his' was.

"Oh, yeah, he is ... nice" he said taking the keys.

_*I'm gonna kill him. __Why the fuck didn't he just left the damn thing in the mailbox.* _

"Sorry, but it was a rather short night and I still have some cleaning up to do."

"Of course. Do you need any help, dear?"

"No, no, thanks. It's not that bad, just bothersome."

It wasn't even a lie, not really at least. When he left his apartment been relative clean considering he liked to be lazy when in private; just some random cups and old newspapers laying around, and that was exactly the state he found his home in, when he opened the door. The only thing different seemed to be the absence of the other spy.

_*Okay, how much could he possible done without leaving a trace while I was gone?* _

Black decided the answer held a pretty large list of things and started to search, but to his surprise even after four hours of intensive scanning his own, familiar apartment he could find nothing out of place: no traps aside from those he set up himself, no cameras, no microphones, neither seemed anything missing beside the clothes he gave White ... and the blanket.

_*Don't tell me that fucker just left and only took the stupid blanket! What the hell is going on here?* _

For a brief moment Black considered to say it out loud, just to prove it really sounded as ridiculous in his ears as it did in his head, instead he poured himself some whiskey, but didn't drink. After all it could be poisoned.

_*Honestly, with what? He had nothing with himI and my soaps aren't_ that _poisonous*_he thought, but skipped the liquid into the sink nonetheless.

_*Better safe than sorry. What a waste. Good luck I brought a new one.* _

.o.

Three days later the delivery service of a laundry nearby brought him a package, already paid, with the clothes he had lent White in it. It was the closest thing to a thank you he would probably ever get; the blanket however never returned.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

.o.

_Unwritten spy rule No 5: Never let your guard down. _

.o.

Weeks went by, becoming months, and it almost seemed like nothing ever happened. Black went on missions, like always, sometimes he also met White on their private battlefield, or he went out to disturb one of the other's missions. They tried desperately to kill each other, but ended up surviving it, more or less, bother each other again and stay equal in the number of times they had completed their missions although the other had interfered, but as always was the devil in the detail: it still was only just almost.

There were two things that changed drastically in connection with his private apartment.

Against all logic Black decided against moving out. He wasn't there most of the time, so it wasn't exactly attractive as a place for a trap, and he simply hadn't wanted to. However, the biggest change also included White, because every so often the other would turn up at Black's door, his injuries never Black's doing, and he couldn't help but notice that it was getting worse every time. The dark spy couldn't say why he always patched the other up and nursed him for a while, so far providing food and booze could count as `nursing´, and then he would hear the door late at night and everything left of White would be a package from the laundry a few days later.

The second time it happened he didn't search through his whole apartment anymore, only the more obvious places, after the third time he stopped bothering with that and also quit acting as if White was his prisoner. There was just no point. They both knew he wouldn't torture, poison or do anything else `criminal´ while in his private sanctuary, least of all with ever curious Boney living next door, so there was no point in pretending.

The fourth time White came to his door Black was already expecting him. There seemed to be a pattern to his visits. It wasn't very accurate, but he could narrow it down enough to refill his first aid supplies in time. However, the dark spy found himself unable to figure out the sequence of those visits. It hadn't anything to do with the date, lunar circle, or the constellation of the stars and after the fifth visit he just stopped questioning things altogether. He didn't ask who tortured White anymore, he didn't ask for whys – sometimes they actually even managed to talk like normal people for about five to ten minutes before falling back into old routine – and he stopped questioned himself why he helped the other spy to begin with. He had other thoughts going through his head, some more some less disturbing, but still they all concerned White.

Something had changed within the other spy and not only in the way Black looked at him. When they fought something was missing; the fire, the determination, but at the same time he tried so desperately to destroy him ... it just didn't make sense to try to kill and save the same person at the same time.

Well, it seemed in that point they were the same. Black didn't dare to think about it in detail, but when they met out on a mission he lately had had the chance to kill White quite often, but he didn't. He found himself less thinking about how to destroy White, than how to protect him from whatever caused the visits and it drove him nuts.

Cursed be his natural protectiveness and cursed be White for looking so helpless when knocking at his door and speaking of knocking, where the slag was that poor excuses for a spy anyway? He had the feeling White would come here again – for the ninth time, but who counted? – and until now his intuition had never failed him on this matter.

Black stopped in mid action, looking at what he had done while thinking. There was a rope, his gun plus spar munitions, a flashlight, night glasses, he already wore a bullet-proof vest ... holy shit, he was almost ready to go out and search for that crazy bastard!

Now this definitely went too far. Patching that guy back together was one thing, after all was he the only real threat in this whole business for him and without a proper enemy he would grow slow until a rookie would finish him up, but searching meant he cared not only for his challenge and entertainment, but for the person under the white hat, too.

*Who am I kidding? He's the closest thing to a friend I had in ... forever. It's all his fault. Being so damn stubborn always to go back. I haven't even said he should leave last time, and the time before and at least the time before that time, too.*

A really annoying ring tune disturbed Black's thoughts.

*What the hell?! I have my ... oh, I just can't believe this. What else did he leave here as soon as I grew careless?*

Luckily the music was long enough and its origin easily to be located behind the cupboard next to the door. It wasn't a trap, just a mobile phone on standby, judging by the dust it was covered with it had been placed there about three to four months ago, and it just had received a text message, containing the coordinates of a small alley in the local industry district.

This just screamed trap. It had to be a trap, but White would never put up such an oblivious trap, would he?

"Well, I guess there is one point everyone goes bonkers in this job" Black told himself resigning, took his equipment and the keys to his apartment and went to search for that alley White had to be or a trap ... or both.

.o.

Unwritten spy rule No 6: Never expect help.

.o.

The alley was even smaller in reality than the map lead to assume and probably even dark on a bright and sunny summer day. Now however, on a cold winter night, it was pitch black, almost too dark for his night glasses, but again `almost´ was the important word.

For a change it appeared to be good luck White wore, well, white, but more importantly the area seemed to be safe. No traps, no other spies, just the two of them, blood and snow. Almost poetically, if he would have any appreciation for poetry.

"That's one huge mass of shit you got yourself in" Black commented off handed. He couldn't really make out how badly wounded the other one really was, but it had to be _really_ bad considering the other had swallowed his pride and actually asked him, his sworn enemy, so directly for help. What was even more disturbing was that White must have known before that it would come to this at one point. Why else should he have left the cell phone where he had?

White didn't response, only his eyes moved, trying to figure out where his enemy was. Black signed, kneeled down and for once carefully picked the other one up, being more gentle than he thought he was capable of.

"Try to hold on tight" Black said, placing White on his back. "I'll bring you home."

Did he imagine things or was that guy far to light for a grown up man? Well, considering how lose his tongue was, he would probably be up and about faster than Black could appreciate.

"You're growing weak, getting all soft on me" White whispered hoarse, what was left of his voice sounded broken and overused.

"Shut up before you damage something I can't patch up. And, by the way, you are the one always returning to your embassy, only to come crawling to me when they punish you for failing, so who of us is weak?"

White didn't response and Black wondered just when he had actually come to that conclusion. Spoken aloud it made perfectly sense. Every time they met out on mission Black would take a few days off afterwards to recover – no one would dare to stop him anyway, after all was he top of the line – and every time White had lost their private game he would show up a few days later at Black's door. That was the sequence. It was so simple, so obvious, but despite being the personification of what `normal´ people meant when they talked about the evil in the world, the thought that White's superiors were to blame for this was just ... wrong.

"Never expected you to help me."

.o.

_Unwritten spy rule No 7: Never underestimate your enemy. _

.o.

Black stood next to the bed for quite a while. On the way home White had passed out on him and not even woke up when he had taken care of his wounds and now he had to wonder just who of them was crazier.

Well, he knew the explanation for his own actions. Before he had become a spy he had once not only been very passionate, but also very protective, but later with only his own life to protect it had faded away until that fateful night almost a year ago brought it all to the surface again.

*Stupid White with his lovely blue eyes ... I didn't thought that, did I? Ah, well, they had been fascinating until lately.*

Still, he couldn't blame White. The other spy hadn't come for protection after all, but to get killed.

The White embassy must have changed their inner structure. Instead of not paying and/or scolding their spies, if they survived a failed mission, they had started to punish them physically. Taken into consideration how White had looked worse every time he came it probably increased with every failure.

How long had this already been going on? The first time the other came to him had surely not been the first time they had punished him, just the moment he couldn't take it anymore.

It was quite ironic, actually. He had tried for years to break White only to have the other's own people do the job for him – better even. His goal had been to make White talk and quit the job and yes, also to kill him, but he had wanted to do it with his own hands, or at least to be the one to pull the trigger and not to drive him into suicide and for a man with White's abilities there was naturally only one way to die: Black.

It was just cruel, even for their profession.

"Unlucky fool. Who did you think I am, expecting me to kill a helpless man in front of my private apartment? You only would have needed to lose somewhere out there, but I guess you pride was the only thing you had left."

He thought about the SMS earlier. It was inappropriate, but the thought made him snicker humourlessly while he walked to his bedroom door, not caring if the man in his bed was awake or not.

"You know, the sad thing about it is: now _I_ am the only thing you have left."

Black closed the door behind him and eyed his couch. It wasn't the most comfortable piece of furniture, but it would do until he decided what to do next.

Laying down he tried to get some well earned and needed rest, but there were still too many questions running through his head, like what to do about the new gained information about the white embassy ... and then he heard unsteady steps.

At least it wasn't much of a surprise anymore when the door opened, but White didn't leave the supporting frame, forcing Black to turn around. He half expected to at least have a gun pointed at him – despite all that happened he still thought in his old patterns – but it was nothing of this. Just White, leaning against the frame, only small parts of his skin not covered by bandages and plasters, messy blond hair falling over his feverish, bright blue eyes; not seducing, neither begging, but asking a simple but for them very strange question.

"You're not serious, are you?"

No reaction. Black resigned.

"And I thought I can't sink any lower" he said and walked over to White. He said nothing on this matter anymore, just led the other spy back to the bed, pressed him down on the right side while he claimed the left as his, pulling the cover over both ears. It wasn't long until the mattress moved and he felt arms slowly moving around his waist, a nose snuggling in his back.

Black stiffened to the point that it was painful. He wasn't used to body contact anymore, as long as it didn't involved violence or fast, meaningless sex, and, while he technically wasn't opposed to either, this really wasn't the time for that.

"Don't you think this is taking it a bit _too_ far?"

Instead of loosening the grip grew stronger and Black sighed again.

"Guess I'm really growing soft in the head" he complained, but turned around and returned the hug. Just because it had been quite a while didn't meant he would mind to get used to it again. It felt nice, even right to a certain point – well, hitting, shooting and stabbing felt right, too, and they would probably go back to that sooner or later, but right now _this_ was right and that was the point when Black finally accepted that he had let the lighter spy too close.

White had sneaked through all his barriers, physical as well as mental ones, right into his heart. The thought to have to let the other go again suddenly hit far too close to home. They were enemies, for God's sake; he wasn't meant to like having White around, or to care about him, and it was definitely _forbidden_ to _snuggle_ with him like this without intending to betray the other, but he didn't and heaven forbid he would let anyone ever again do something to White. Instead he intended to have him like this more often, maybe do a little more, when the other was healthy enough for such activity again and if he approved of course. In the eyes of society he might have committed every crime and sin known to mankind, but he was not a rapist. Even he had something like a moral code.

"Don't even think about going back there, or I'm gonna tie you to the frame – uncomfortably I might add. There are a gun and two knifes between the mattresses, in case you're still planning to kill me, and I recommend to do it discrete. Ms M. has enough problems with her kids. Doesn't need to worry about secret organization activities next door on top of that."

Again the only replay was the hug becoming a bit stronger.

"Boney. She told you to call her Boney."

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

.o.

_Unwritten spy rule No 8: Never care. _

.o.

Black found it surprisingly easy to get used to live together with someone again. Maybe it was just because White was also a spy and thus used to a similar daily routine, but this parody of a domestic life was nonetheless something he never thought he could do or enjoy.

The start had of course been rather rocky. He had almost stabbed White trice in the first night and in return White had tried to shoot him once in the early morning – he had probably just been too exhausted to try it more often – but grabbed right into one of Black's knifes. It seemed they sorted their emergency weaponry exact the other way round and so Black again had to patch up White and switched the knifes against a second gun. That, however, was the least of their problems. What was really bothersome were White's nightmares and not just because the other was a very livid dreamer. The last time Black remembered to have had nightmares had been in his first year on active duty. Now he simply didn't know what to against them anymore, but that he had to do something was out of question and he only knew one place where he was sure to get the advice he needed without risking his pride and or life.

"Boney?"

The woman was rather surprised to find her dark haired neighbour in front of her door and little Nathalie whined uneasily in her arms. The kid had either a sixth sense regarding bad persons or simply didn't like to share the attention of her mother with more people than she already had to.

"Hey there, honey. You look worried; is everything alright?"

"I ... I wanted to ask you something. Er ... do you know something against nightmares?"

Boney looked up at him with big eyes. That was something she obviously hadn't expected, but then she smiled sweetly, stepped forward and laid one arm around the larger man's neck, the other one still holding her child. Black tensed and only just so withstood the urge to push her away when she pulled him against her, having to stand on her toes to rest her head on his shoulder. He still wasn't used to harmless physical contact, but then she started to stroke his hair and ...

"They are but dreams, dear. Everything will be alright."

It was like a switch and suddenly Black relaxed into the embrace. Maybe long ago, when he had been Nathalie's age and completely obliviously to all the wrongs and cruelness of this world, maybe back then in his mother's arms he had last felt so helpless and yet at the same time so _safe_. He couldn't remember, he was after all now part of these wrongs, the bogeyman for adults, but still this felt so very good.

She held him like she would her own children for a moment longer than strictly necessary before releasing him. However, she didn't step away, letting the other decide when to fully break the contact.

"Better?" she then asked like probably only a mother could, ignoring the light blush on his checks and the way he edged away, trying to save his manliness that wasn't even scratched in her eyes without being impolite.

"I wasn't the one with the nightmares."

"I know, but it works nonetheless, doesn't it?"

"And you think I can do that, too?"

Since when was he so uncertain? Ah, well, he hadn't been in a comparable situation since forever and he had learned the hard way to never just travel into unknown territory.

"Of course. All it needs is a little love and affection. You'll see, it's easy when you put your heart into it."

"Female intuition?" he guessed aloud, seeing that Boney had already come to her own conclusion about the man dropping by at her neighbour's place frequently and actually was she not as wrong as he would have liked to admit.

"That and he sometimes comes over for a little chat when you are away. He's such a sweetheart. Take good care of him or I'll come over there with my rolling pin and teach you a lesson you won't forget."

Black actually smiled. That woman was _really_ someone else; annoying in chattiness, even at her best days, and very irritating, but she had such a good heart there just _had_ to be a law against that. It almost made him believe in human kind again. He should find something to show her how much he actually appreciated having her around, in a neutral, friendly way. Boney was great, but happily married, and it certainly wasn't his intention to bring any strain into that perfectly normal and happy relationship with her husband.

If she now also had an advice for him how to do this without making a complete fool out of himself he would never again complain about her happy-go-lucky nature.

"Hey, don't look so weary. Just go fight his demons head on and don't worry about the rest. He will appreciate it and, if not, send him over and I'll give him something _really_ scary. It's so difficult to find a man willing to show he cares these days."

Right. Knight in shining armour slaying the evil demons with his blazing sword. He briefly wondered if a black coat and guns would work just as well, but the man doubted it. He wasn't exactly hero material, but he had to admit she still had a point.

"I'll remember that. Thank you."

"That's what good neighbours are for, my dear."

.o.

_Unwritten spy rule No 9: Never get emotionally involved._

.o.

Black was far past the point of simply exploding. he doubted that any words would have been sufficient to describe the storm of rage and other things he felt even after trashing the majority of his apartment, but the reason was easily summarised in one single word: White.

The other spy was gone, as in back to his thrice damned embassy, like a heroin addict always returned to the needle did although they knew it would kill them, and that stupid bastard hadn't even left a note.

Just what the hell?!

After two weeks of caring for him, actually trying to be gentle and even going through the trouble of calling in sick at work – what was their problem anyway? Since his early days he hadn't called in sick anymore for lesser reasons than being in intensive care and/or confined to bed with actual restrains – and he got nothing, not even a `thanks for last night´, because it sure had been the best sex Black had had in longer than he cared to remember.

... Okay, so it wasn't just last night; the whole last week had been ... great, actually. They surely hadn't been the happy couple Boney and her husband were – always smiling and nice just wasn't their thing – but in between their old habits of insulting and fighting they had found their own vision of happiness. Everything had been going well, at least he had thought it had, and now this.

The worst thing about it was probably that by now he was more worried something might have happened to the other than angry and it was that worry that made him knock at his neighbour's door once again and ask if she knew something about White's whereabouts.

"White?" the woman asked back irritated. "Oh, him. That name surely suits him considering he called you `Black´ a few times. Come in. He left something for you some days ago."

Black stayed suspiciously in the door, in a matter of seconds switching from worried neighbour straight to top agent of a spy agency, sensing their whole cover blown.

"What do you know?" he asked coldly, but although she must have noticed the change the woman didn't react to it.

"You mean except the oblivious; that he isn't married and never was and that you used to be rivals in whatever you do for a living, which certainly has nothing to do with government work as I know it?" she asked back with a forced smile, the first of that kind he had ever seen on her face. "Actually I don't even know that for sure and I guess it better stays that way, but since you asked so directly I fear that we have to worry about other things. Here."

Boney took a key out of a cookie-box standing on her kitchen counter and gave it to Black.

"He told me to give it to you should anything happen to him and tell you `_it leads you to where we first met_´. I told him to be less cryptic, but he said I would know when and you would understand. ... your friend is in big trouble, isn't he?"

Black eyed he key. It was rather small and bound to a red chip with a number on it. A locker-key, probably for a locker in the airport; that was where they had met for the first time as enemies ... but did the other really meant that? It seemed too easy.

"If he's not, he will be when I get my hands on him. Do you remember how he pronounced `met´?"

"I think he didn't. He just said it. Something terrible happened to him didn't it?"

The dark spy starred at the key for a moment longer, then closed his fingers around it, coming to a decision.

"Boney, I want you to take your family and leave the city. I don't know what will happen, but you shouldn't be here when it comes down."

Now Boney didn't just look worried, but downright scared and started to ramble about possible destinations – she didn't know much about her neighbour, but enough to take a warning like that very seriously – but he told her off.

"Just leave."

"I won't see either of you ever again, will I?"

"No."

She sighed in defeat, then hugged him. Hesitating for the shortest moment Black returned a gestured.

"You know, for all that is worth it, I really liked living next to you."

"Lair. I know I annoyed the living daylight out of you most of times" she retorted amused. "I wish you all the luck of this world. Be careful."

"You too."

And with that he was gone. He had an important mission to prepare after all. White wouldn't have left him these clues, if they weren't important.

.o.

_Unwritten spy rule No 10: Never mix up private life with business. _

.o.

Admittedly more on instinct than anything else Black decided against the airport in favour of a subway-station down town, the place where they had first met as civil persons. Except that he had spend the rest of the day trying to get rid of any possible stalkers nothing had happened that day, which was why he still remembered and it paid off now.

Of course Black didn't just run to the lockers. He first checked and double checked everything to make sure the place was as safe as a public subway-station during rush-hour could possibly be and only then did he casually stroll to the lockers and opened the one White had left him the key for ... only to find another key, for a house or flat door he guessed, but there was no note or hint, nothing.

Great. This time he didn't even have a cryptic message, how was he supposed to find out where to go next?

Near the train station was a park and with nowhere else to go Black went there and sat down on a bench, thinking. He wouldn't give up, but he couldn't just check every door in this damned city, assuming he was searching for a door in _this_ city to begin with. On the other hand: White wasn't stupid and neither was Black. The other wouldn't leave him just a key, if it wasn't possible to find out what it opened and where.

"Open, sesame."

What a stupid idea; of course it didn't work, but he couldn't just sit and do nothing. Of course, he just could go and give his co-workers a run for their money, but then questions would be asked he really didn't want to answer, not to mention that without a hint they would be just as clueless as he was.

No, not clueless. Black brought the key closer to his eyes. There was a number carved into it and not by the maker. It had to be a room number and, if that was the case, he was back in the game, because there were only three buildings with so many stores in this city and only one had apartments.

"I swear to God, White, if we survive this we will have a serious talk about leaving hints."

.o.

Black was more than relieved to discover that the key indeed opened the door to an apartment on the highest level of one of the highest tower in the city.

Not wasting precious time on trying to imagine what would ride someone to live so high up – just imagine taking the stairway in case of a fire or any other emergency – the dark spy instantly started to search for any and every thing that could help him and found it surprisingly easy and `it´ turned out to be a lot!

Wrapped up in a blanket, the blanket White had stolen from Black that first time he had come to him, were blueprints, shift plans, and details about the security system of White's embassy building, enough in any case for Black to get in and out again.

"That fucker knew from the start this would happen and ran into his own death relying on me to save his ass! Okay, now it's official, I slammed him into walls once too often" Black groaned, then something else caught his interest, something absolutely hilarious: the address of the other's embassy. It was just three streets down from his own.

.o.

"Finally awake?"

White couldn't do much more than stare. The last thing he remembered was passing out under torture, or at least he figured he must have passed out, because he had absolutely no idea how he got into this actually quite familiar blanket and more importantly onto this plane, though the man next to him behind the control wheel provided a rather surprising clue.

"What ... ?"

"What has gotten into you to go back to them? Yeah, that's what I would like to know, too."

White sighed, pulling the blanket closer around his shoulders.

"I wanted to resign, put an end to this mess. I forgot we _can't_ resign."

"As if it wasn't drilled into you since day one. What are you smiling about?"

"You. You really came for me."

That answer took Black completely off guard. Of course he had saved the other, but that he would be so openly happy about surprised him. He probably shouldn't tell the other right now that soon the White embassy would be no more since he had send the plans to his own; not because they were the enemy or how they had treated White ... okay, actually it had a lot to do with that, but mainly on principles. Call him old fashioned, but especially in their line of work there should be certain lines that shouldn't be crossed and their superiors were no exception, end of discussion.

"Well, next time you plan on doing something this stupid you better not send me on a paper chase. Actually, I would much appreciate it, if you just wouldn't do it to begin with."

"Aw, don't tell me I got you worried, Black."

"Blackcoal" the pilot corrected grumpy. "My name is Mathew Blackcoal. Might as well make it official."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I wish I would."

"Oh. Well, then nice to meet you, Mathew Blackcoal. I'm Jeffrey Whitemoore."

They managed to stay serious for exactly three point five seconds before bursting out in laughter. It was a miracle Black managed to keep the plain airborne.

"I guess in that case we can just as well stick with our old nicknames. On that note, what do we do now, Black?"

"Vacation. Any suggestions?"

White thought about it for a moment. The closest thing to a vacation he had ever had were the stays in the hospital and in Black's apartment, so given the choice, where would he want to spend his first vacation in ... had it really been over twenty years? Damn, and they had said their expected lifespan was five years field duty tops. Statistics weren't anymore what they used to be.

"I want somewhere warm, at the ocean, nothing under five stars and the president suit for at least two weeks."

"Sounds good to me. It's not as if we couldn't afford it for two _lifetimes_ anyway."

**TBC**


	4. Epilogue

"You know, your aunt was right: This new job is much better and look at this wonderful house."

"I know, dear. My name is on the deed of ownership, too, remember?" Boney reminded in jest. The hasty escape they had made after Black's warning had actually been the best thing that had ever happened to them. Her husband was happy, they had finally enough room for their kids to grow up and, if she was honest, she liked this city a whole lot better than the other. The only thing she missed was the nice neighbour; she would have liked to thank him properly and know if they were alright.

"Oh, that reminds me, there was this letter in the mail today, addressed to you" he said and handed his wife a white envelope with nothing more on it that the words `To Boney´.

Irritated she opened it and smiled widely, showing the photo she found in it her husband. The picture was mainly occupied by a man with dark hair looking older than he probably was, but with the biggest grin Boney had ever seen him wear. In the background she spotted a blond man in green boxers, stretching his limps. There was no indication about where they were, no landscape and nothing, just a short part of a beach, the ocean and the blue sky, but it wasn't important anyway. She only wondered how the letter had found its way into their mailbox, but she also knew that there were things she was better of not knowing and pinned the photo on the fridge.

**END**

So ... opinions? And not a word about the names I gave Black and White. I know they are stupid, but I thought it was funny back then, so I didn't bother to change them.****  
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